The journey was a bleak one. The trees of the forests of the north were all barren and silver. The sky had yet to com pletely clear of the storm, and so was a dismal silver-grey overhead. The trail was slippery with hidden patches of ice beneath the snow, and so neither Lyara nor Jilan rushed their ponies. The cloaks they wore over the simple leather tunics and trousers were warmly lined with fur, and once more the two gave the appearance of Talandri travelers.

"Are you going to stay with your family when we get to Tandri, Jilan?" Lyara asked. "You didn't say much about what your plans were after supper last night."

"I haven't decided yet," he returned thoughtfully. "To be perfectly honest, I'm torn. One part of me wants to make peace with my father and uncle. Then again," he paused long enough to make Lyara look over her shoulder at him, "I have another part of me that wants to keep on the road beyond Tandri. What are your plans?"

Lyara shrugged outwardly, secretly pleased that some semblance of companionship had been reestablished between the two of them. "I'm so curious about that message from the Oracle that I haven't really thought much about what will happen after that."

"Are you going to go back to the Guides Hall and take your assignments from Master Lyndon?"

"No." She was certain of that, and her tone was firm and decided. "I will need to go on after seeing Master Lyndon. That much I know."

"Can you tell me where you are going?"

"South." Topiara warmed for the first time in days and flashed a vision of the flute. "How far south, I'm not sure."

Jilan was silent for a while. Then, "And if I would want to go with you?"

"I would enjoy the company," Lyara began, hesitant for fear of provoking the cold silence and pain that had plagued their stay at the inn. "I wasn't sure you would want to come after all. You've been so distant." Her voice expressed the pain his silence had caused.

"You offered me a choice," he explained after another pause. "I had to decide if I could live by your conditions. It wasn't an easy decision." He looked over at her to find her watching his face intently.

"And you made your choice?"

"More or less, I guess. I'll spend some time with my father, but I want you to let me know when you are getting ready to leave again."

"That I can do," Lyara promised, feeling oddly pleased. "And if your father doesn't want to allow you to leave?"

"He can't really stop me," Jilan stated calmly and firmly. "I have reached my majority long ago, am not the first son who needs to be trained to take his place as Lord, and so am free to do as I will. That's why Master Lyndon could tell me how to get in touch with you in the first place. Being forbidden to do anything about Sidon wasn't truly binding."

Lyara returned her attention to her mount as the ground below Surefoot's hooves grew even more slippery and treacherous. She was quietly thrilled that Jilan was once again talking to her as he had before. And his decision to journey with her to the south gave her a strange, warm feeling she wasn't sure how to explain.

They stopped that night in a tiny settlement that didn't even have an inn. The owner of the large barn on the edge of town was convinced to allow them to sleep with their animals for a few pieces of the specie from Lyara's pouch. For her payment, the farmer's wife even sent out a bundle of warm bread and cheese for the strangers in her barn.

The next morning, the weather turned warmer, and some of the snow and ice on the road melted. It made travel a dirtier task, but one that went quite a bit quicker than it had before. The warmth held for several days, and Lyara and Jilan were able to make good progress toward Tandri. Inns and farmsteads were more than glad to take Lyara's specie in exchange for warm housing as the nights turned freezing cold.

Two days from Tandri, Topiara warmed on Lyara's breast once more, issuing a warning. Immediately, Lyara became alert to all the dwellings and humanity that they were passing. "We had best be ready for trouble," she relayed her concern to Jilan.

"A hunch?" The question was asked innocently enough that it didn't even make Lyara glance at him. She merely nodded while keeping her attention to the sides and the back of them. Jilan also began to watch more carefully, Lyara's nervousness being contagious.

That night, they rested in the hayloft of yet another barn. Jilan dropped quickly into an exhausted sleep, leaving Lyara to sit the first watch of the night. Topiara had kept a dialogue going as soon as Jilan had fallen asleep, throwing visions of the flute at Lyara intermixed with the face of a kindly old gentleman who looked out of the vision as if he were seeing Lyara in fact.

The vision shifted to the now-familiar sight of the flute, covered with the strange carvings. But this time, a hand in truded into the vision, clasped the flute firmly and removed it from the focus of the vision. Lyara broke from her reverie abruptly and shook herself to become aware of her surroundings once more.

The moonlight shone in the through the cracks of the wooden building and illuminated the interior dimly. A soft snoring came from Jilan, huddled beneath his cloak and half covered with loose hay. Below, snickers and stirring evidenced where the ponies were stabled. Otherwise the night was chilled and quiet. Slowly Lyara relaxed and leaned back once more against the wall, and Topiara stayed inert and keeping any other visions to itself.

She was almost ready to nudge Jilan to take his turn at the watch when she heard it -- footsteps below in the barn. Moving slowly so as not to make a sound, she sneaked to Jilan's side and covered his mouth so that he would not make a sound when she awakened him. He came alert with a jerk, but could see well enough in the half-light to recognize Lyara. He nodded his head, and she removed her hand to put a finger to her lips and mouth the word "Listen." Then her hand dropped to her belt and drew out her short sword.

"What makes you so sure that this is the right one?" whispered one voice beneath them. Jilan pointed down, and Lyara nodded, a sign that she too had heard the voice.

"There aren't many guides with Kauwlut coloring," respond ed another whisper. "I followed the trail of that girl that was traveling with Karlo when we found him until they got back to Tandri, when she went back into the Guild hall. Vinzen said he'd keep an eye on her from there."

"We took care of Karlo a long time ago," a third whisper hissed. "Why so long to take on a girl?"

"I couldn't be sure she had the stone," the second whisper answered softly. "But I got a chance to talk to one of her friends at the Guide hall just after she left this last time. Vinzen said he was friendly to our cause and would give us any information we wanted. Anyway, this source told me that she now wears a strange bundle around her neck that she hadn't had be fore. It must be the stone Vinzen wants."

Jilan frowned at Lyara, who shrugged back at him. He pointed to the lump beneath her tunic with a questioning look. Lyara shrugged again and then nodded reluctantly. Jilan gave a silent whistle and then listened again.

"What about the other one?" the first whisper insisted. "What are we going to do about him?"

"Kill them both," was the flat answer with no further explanation.

Lyara's eyes narrowed, and she signaled Jilan to draw his sword as she had. Jilan complied as the footsteps neared the ladder that led to the loft. Lyara moved through the hay like a shadow, making no sound as she positioned herself on the opposite side of the ladder from where they had been sleep ing. She waved Jilan to crouch down so as to be out of sight and then did the same.

The ladder creaked as weight was put on the old wooden rungs one by one. Jilan crouched behind a sizable stack of hay without daring to peek over to see whether Lyara had also found a good place to hide. "What do you see?" he heard a whisper from below inquire.

"Cloaks and blankets toward the front of the barn," was the reply. "I think they're both asleep."

"Well, move out of the way and let us come up, then," came the curt order. Jilan heard a stirring in the hay and a quick ly-stifled whimper, and he peeked up just in time to see Lyara pull her sword from the neck of their first attacker and move the body behind her own stack of hay. Again the ladder was creaking.

"Horge," whispered the next intruder. "Where are you?"

"What's going on up there?" demanded the third attacker from below.

"I can't see Horge," explained the second intruder, and he began shuffling through the hay toward Jilan. Suddenly fearful of discovery, Jilan jumped up and brandished his sword.

"Krang!" shouted the intruder, who brought out his sword and began swinging it at Jilan with practiced ease.

"Damn!" Lyara sprang up from her own hiding spot in time to see the third attacker's head pop through the access hole for the ladder. With a shout, she swung her sword down and around, nearly decapitating the man. Without a sound, Krang tumbled from the ladder into the hay and manure below. Lyara didn't even look to see where he had fallen, turning her interest instead to where Jilan still fought with all his skill against the second intruder. This man was skilled enough to have been able to glance beyond his enemy and see the girl slaughter his comrade and leader only to now turn to face him.

Facing two swords now instead of just one, the attacker was quick to realize his predicament. "Mercy!" he pleaded and threw down his weapon.

Lyara thrust the bloody point of her sword up under the man's chin. "Get his sword, Jilan," she barked, and Jilan hurried to do as she said. Meanwhile, she had pulled her face close to the one surviving attacker. "Who is this Vinzen and what does he want with the stone?"

"I don't know what . . ." the man began, only to stop speaking and begin sweating when the point of the sword poked his chin a little harder, enough to draw blood.

"You were saying," Lyara prompted casually. Jilan looked at his companion with surprise at the ice and hatred in her tone.

"You have the power-stone, that's all I know. Vinzen wanted it back." The man's face was now dripping with sweat. The sword did not move.

"You killed Karlo," Lyara said, not asking a question but stating a fact. The man flinched but dared not contradict her. "You would have killed me and my companion. Tell me one thing that will make me consider sparing your life."

The man squirmed, and he swallowed hard. "Vinzen . . ."

"Yes," Lyara poked her sword into his chin yet again, "what about Vinzen?"

He squirmed again. "He has the . . ."

"The what?!"

"The flute!" With the final word, the attacker brought out the one hand he had been moving behind him filled with the thinnest of dirks and drove it into Lyara's ribs. Jilan, caught by surprise, was still alert enough to manage to run the man through before the assassin had the chance to reach the ladder. He in his turn tumbled through the hole and onto the body of his other comrade.

Jilan dropped his sword and flew to Lyara's side as she fell to her knees with one hand covering the wound the dirk had inflicted in her left side. "Lyara!" He stopped, not knowing what else to do or say."

Lyara was leaning heavily on her sword. "By the fang of the Predator," she groaned, "I know better than that."

"How bad are you?" Jilan demanded worriedly.

In response, Lyara bent slightly so she could see when she removed her hand to expose the small hole that was bleeding steadily once uncovered. In the half-light of the barn, the blood that soaked the tunic was nearly black. "Not as bad as I could have been. The man was a professional; I should have known to be wary."

Jilan had blanched at the first sight of the dark blood, but had mastered himself and walked purposefully over to Lyara's bundle. "We had better get that bandaged before you bleed to death," he observed, his worry making his voice curt. "Do you still have that linen tunic? The one you wore when we left?"

"At the bottom of the bundle with my Kauwlut clothes," Lyara answered, letting herself drop to a seated position in the hay. She used a clean portion of her own tunic to wipe the blood from her short sword before putting it down at her side. "Did you find it?"

Jilan had dug through and tosses aside leather and furred clothing and finally, with a shout, stood up again with the tunic he had sought. He quickly came back to Lyara's side. "Tell me what to do," he stated urgently.

Lyara groaned as she removed her torn and bloody tunic, needing Jilan's aid to raise her left arm to finally pull the garment off. The small pouch with Topiara dangled over the taut breast-band, and the wound pulsed dark blood down close to her waist. She tossed the discarded garment at him. "Use that to clean your sword, and then tear the linen tunic into strips," she directed and then lay back on the hay with a groan.

Jilan began following her instructions, but paused to motion with the bloody tunic at the little pouch on her breast. "That was what they were after, wasn't it?" he commented brusquely.

"Not now, Jilan," Lyara sighed, closing her eyes.

"They called it a power-stone," he continued as if she had not spoken. "Is it true?"

"Jilan!"

"Damn it, Lyara," he exploded, ripping the linen as vi ciously as he could, "tell me what is going on! You could have been killed just now, and . . ."

"I warned you, remember," Lyara answered softly. "I told you that what I had to do was dangerous, perhaps fatal. I meant what I said."

"I've heard legends about a power-stone," Jilan ripped another strip from the tunic noisily. "They say it only appears in times of great trouble or when there is change coming." He ripped another strip.

"Really," Lyara remarked dryly and grabbed one of the strips to begin rolling it into a pad to cover the wound. "What else do 'they' say?"

"They say it gives strange powers to the person it chooses to be its bearer," he continued, taking the half-wound pad from Lyara's fingers and setting about finishing the job. "Visions, hunches, all kinds of skills and knowledge."

Lyara said nothing. Jilan finished rolling the pad and placed it over the wound and reached for one of the long strips to tie it into place. "Sit up, so I can get this around you," he urged more gently. Lyara did so with another groan.

He pulled the strip as tight as he dared around her and tied the strip with a simple and strong knot. Only then did he pause to look at her directly. "If the damned thing can heal, maybe you'd better think about having it do something for you. I don't think you're going to be able to ride the way you are now."

She reached her right hand up and clasped the little leather pouch tightly. "How many days to Tandri did I say it was tonight?"

"Two." He stared at her determined expression. "Why?"

"It doesn't heal without outside help," she admitted reluctantly, but knowing she owed him at least that. "But it will help me to make it home. I can ride tomorrow, never fear."